For in what other realm could all the disparate inhabitants of paddock life – representing 11 teams, more than 100 nationalities, and countless degrees of self-interest – be held together in delicate symbiosis by one 82-year-old gentleman back in Knightsbridge?

The sport, happily revving up its V8 engines for the opening Formula One grand prix on Sunday, remains predicated upon one single flawed assumption: that Bernie Ecclestone will live forever.

Ecclestone chose not to fly to Australia when Ted Baillieu, former premier of Victoria, resigned suddenly last week to cast uncertainty over his plans to extend Melbourne’s race contract.

As ever, he took his decision according to the most careful political calculation. But his absence from the weekend gridwalk serves not to dilute his influence one iota.

Why, his omnipotence is such that Lewis Hamilton has had to write to him directly to request an all-access pass for his bulldog, Roscoe.

For the record, Ecclestone indulged the zany request. “I am a huge fan of bulldogs,” he said. “I am happy to look after the dog while Lewis is racing.”

Do not let his bonhomie deceive you. Ecclestone continues to broker deals – £125million from Emirates, plus untold riches from Rolex, in the past three months alone – with such zeal that it would embarrass a man of half his considerable vintage. To every practical end he is still F1’s sovereign, its sultan, its geriatric generalissimo.

The great problem is what happens next. Ecclestone, unless he has combined his alchemist’s touch in business with discovering the elixir for eternal life, is not imperishable.

And yet there is almost no evidence of an attempt to plan a succession. The astonishing reality of one man owning an entire sport translates to grave doubt when that same figure is no longer able to control his global fiefdom.

These worries are magnified by the fact that Ecclestone enters 2013 with at least one court case to consider. In an intrigue of a complexity of which John le Carré would be proud, he is due to testify at the High Court in October concerning a £27.3million bribe that he allegedly paid to German banker Gerhard Gribkowsky to steer the sale of Formula One to its present owner, CVC Capital Partners.

He has described the prospect of giving evidence as “amusing”, while dwelling in darker moments upon the possible consequences of these allegations.

Asked what might happen if prosecutors in Germany, who have already sentenced Gribkowsky to 8½ years in jail, decide to press charges, Ecclestone replied: “Probably be forced to get rid of me. It’s pretty obvious, if I’m locked up.”

The contingencies, however, are far from obvious. All we know for certain about a potential Ecclestone handover is that Egon Zehnder, a headhunting agency, has been enlisted to identify candidates as his successor from across a spectrum of leading global companies.

CVC made the move after explicitly acknowledging that the loss of Ecclestone could have a “material adverse effect on our business and results”. Given how he almost single-handedly enabled F1 to turn a profit of more than £200million in 2012, this is some understatement.

Richard Scudamore, the Premier League’s chief executive, is one of those linked to the role, although it defies credulity to imagine how anybody could plausibly assume the guise of 'Bernie 2.0’. Ecclestone simply refuses, just as he has throughout 40 years of power, to be tethered by traditional protocols.

In April 2011, when nearly every commercial flight in the northern hemisphere was grounded by Iceland’s erupting volcano, he boarded his private plane home from China and was in his London office three hours before Red Bull principal Christian Horner had even touched down.

Such maverick tendencies have rendered him F1’s ultimate salesman. Even in his ninth decade Ecclestone talks restlessly of further expansion, exporting his lucrative circus to New Jersey for 2014 and then to Mexico, Thailand and South Africa.

Suggestions abound that he will soon introduce a 22-race season, threatening exhaustion for the teams but promising unparalleled wealth for his beloved brand.

So, does his insatiable vision have a flipside? In the words of Ferrari chief Luca di Montezemolo, “the one-man show in life is finished. We need people with a more modern view.”

Ecclestone might be a genius in many people’s definitions, but until he accepts some semblance of a shelf life his sport is caught in a perilous state of limbo.